The Secret Release
by Mistress Sorcha
Summary: Due to requests, this will be added to...Sam believes that Dean is coping with acohol...and to an extent, he was right...but there was another way he released the darkness and pain inside.....
1. The Dark Secret

Dean felt himself losing his grip…again…he clenched his tearing eyes shut and bit his lower lip between his teeth….he silently willed himself to hold on just a little longer….Sam was in the driver's seat, his stern face set with anger and frustration…Dean couldn't blame him…he had been less than forthcoming to Sam about the disgusting things he had done in Hell…it was enough that Sam knew now that he had enjoyed it…deep down inside, he couldn't help but think that Sam thought him a monster…he was…he didn't deserve salvation…hot tears streamed down his face…he looked away, determined that Sam not see…he swiped his rough palm over his face…he used the last bit of strength he possessed to push the overwhelming darkness and despair looming in him back for just a little longer…

They arrived at the motel...he got out and headed inside, making a bee-line for the bathroom…he heard Sam angrily close the door, but he didn't care….he needed to let the darkness out of him….he had found only one way that even made a dent…Sammy thought he was coping with his Hell experiences by drinking, and to a certain extent, he was right….he did drink heavily as of late…but it was never enough…Dean locked the door…he turned to the mirror…his green eyes glared back at him from the mirror, burning with self-loathing…the tears came again…this time, he let them fall unabated…they streamed down his pallid cheeks like rivulets of rain sliding down the edifice of a heavily weathered, decrepit building…

He felt the darkness swarming...buzzing inside his mind like so many stinging bees…the swarm ebbing and flowing like an ocean tide….his hands trembled terribly….he gripped the sink….letting his eyes shift toward the grime-coated ground briefly before closing them…he drifted out of control…the swarm of memories surged forward….he choked back the urge to vomit, the bile hovering at the entrance of his throat...he shook with silent sobs…his knees weakened too suddenly for him to stop his descent to the floor…he landed hard on the filth-encased tiles, but he barely registered the pain….as he knelt there, he knew he couldn't wait any longer…

He turned his body and let himself sink to the ground with his back to the vanity…with shaking hands, he unzipped his pants and struggled to pull them off…he kicked them viciously away…he eased the leg of his boxers up, revealing the road map of scars and wounds there…the red, angry edges of a few of the wounds were recent enough to still smart at contact from the cloth that usually covered them…Dean stripped off his jacket, reaching into pocket briefly before tossing the jacket into a heap in the corner…he felt the cool touch of the metal and leather in his palm…he gripped it tightly in his quaking hand so as not to drop it…he slid the blade out of the sheath, letting the sheath fall from his limp grasp to the floor…he held the knife up to eye level, gazing at the sharply glimmering blade…

He swallowed hard…the roar of memories in his head almost too much to bear…he gripped the handle in his unsteady hand…he brought the blade to his flesh…hesitating for a single moment before pressing it deep onto his upper thigh and drawing it slowly across, slicing through the skin deeply…he felt the warmth of blood trickling down the outer edge of his thigh to before dripping steadily to the floor…he lifted the knife…slice….more blood flowing…slice…slice…slice…the pain that had come so close to overtaking him was ebbing out of him…each puncture of the knife bringing a little more release…each wound letting the darkness escape from inside him to dissipate in the harsh glare of the too-bright bulbs above the vanity…slice…one more terror drifting away…slice…one more disgusting deed oozing out of him with the trickling rivulet of blood and the whisper soft splash of the drops hitting the dark pool of blood coating the floor beneath his leg…it flowed in the depressions of the grout, creeping slowly across the floor…

Dean felt his eyes drifting closed and he let them…he felt the grip on the knife loosen…he let it fall from his grasp…it clattered to the floor…the intense pressure of his self hate assuaged for now…the relief washed over him…alcohol could never bring him the release that cutting provided…..he felt his body's clenching muscles relax…he let himself lull in the haze of the momentary absence of his internal Hell…it would return…it always did…but for the moment…it didn't matter…nothing mattered…he felt nothing but the release...his secret release… and that would have to do…for now….


	2. Secret Revealed

**Chapter 2: Secret Revealed**

Sam was furious with his brother…he sat heavily upon the end of his bed, his elbows digging into his upper thighs as he scrubbed his ragged palms over his face…he buried his face in his palms, thinking about Dean…he hadn't been like himself tonight…in fact, he pretty much been a dick…Dean wouldn't even talk to him, not even in the car ride back to the motel…

Sam's blind furry shifted on its track abruptly…ebbing out of his mind slowly as worry flooded in. What the Hell was going on? 'Hell…not the most brilliant choice of words, genius' he thought…  
He combed his long fingers back through his unruly mop of hair, a low sigh rumbling through his chest. Something was wrong…he had to know what…which means he was going to have to confront Dean about it if he wanted to know…yeah…this was probably not going to go well at all…he inhaled deeply, holding it for a moment before allowing it to pour out of him slowly…he stood and walked the few steps to the door. He stood before it for a moment before raising his balled fingers to knock on the cheap wood door.

"Dean?...." he called out after there was no answer to his knock, uncertainty weighing heavily in his voice…silence followed…

"Dean…if you want to talk about whatever's bothering you, I'm here bro…" he mentally kicked himself for his word choice….duh Sam…I wonder what could be on his mind….he shook his head at his own stupidity…he turned and stalked back over to the bed, sitting on the edge, he clicked on the tv, leaning his head on the fisted hand of the arm he had perched on top of his thigh once again…he flicked through the channels randomly, nothing peaking his interest. Sam lifted his head to look at the clock ticking away on the wall…Dean had been in there for almost 40 minutes. Sam was really starting to worry now…he flicked off the tv dropping the changer to the bed beside him. He stalked back to the door, knocking loudly.

"Dean!" he said, his voice loud and filled with worry….nothing…he didn't hear any movement form the other side of the door…his hand moved down and gripped the door handle, attempting to turn it. It wouldn't budge….locked…he swore under his breath for a moment before worry gripped him all the harder…what if Dean had been taken…or what if he had been drinking and passed out…he could have fallen or drank to much and…no…not finishing that thought…he shook his head as a denial of the thought of Dean laying dead behind the door…. He reached into his pocket for the lock pick set…he deftly popped the chintzy lock and turned the handle slowly, letting the door fall open before him…Sam's eyes widened in shock…Dean's body had slid unblocked or hindered to the floor at an awkward angle…one arm was twisted in an odd manner underneath his torso and the other was hanging off his hip, the palm and fingers covered in blood. There was a sizable pool of blood gathered beneath him. His upper thigh was gashed repeatedly, a few of the wound still weeping blood steadily from their edges…Sam gasped in a shocked breath, his pulse pounding through his temples…he traced direction of the limp fingers, following their path to the ground.

There lay the knife, coated in blood, left to lay where it had fallen from his brother's fingers as he passed out…Sam surged forward to his brothers pale form…he pressed his fingers to the artery in Dean's throat…he felt a ragged pulse thrumming beneath his fingers…he let out a small sigh of relief…he was alive…it was then that he saw redness peaking out from beneath the cloth on his brother's other thigh…he gently lifted the edge of the cloth to find long, ragged scars glaring back at him as well as fresher wounds, some still scabbed, all of them deep…he lifted the edge of the bloody side, finding similar results there…he swallowed hard, trying to clear the lump in his throat…tears wound their way down his cheek…Dean's face was streaked with the tracks of dried tears as well…Sam's head fell forward as silent sobs gripped him…how could he miss this…the drinking was worrisome, but this…he had had a friend in college who was a cutter…he thought he could understand the motivation behind the practice, especially in Dean's case, but understanding didn't change the fact that he knew that this type of coping was a sign of just how deeply his brother was hurting…


	3. A Call For Guidance

**Chapter 3: A Call for Guidance**

**He prayed silently, though he was unsure if God would even listen to him at this point, after all his own faltering faith as well as the fact that all of Heaven had pretty much decided he was tainted…evil, and seemed to be quite willing to kill him rather than give him the benefit of the doubt…he pressed on though…he had to try…he prayed for guidance…for help…he didn't know how to help Dean and he knew he was running out of time…Dean was slipping away, falling prey to his inner demons, all under the worried gaze of his little brother…Sam agonized over what he could do to help him…**

"**Please help him Lord...I don't know what to do…you saved him from the physical place of Hell, but it lives on in his mind…and it is killing him… slowly but surely…if he's really important enough send an Angel into the depths of Hell itself…. to have Cas bring him back, make his body whole and new, then why are you letting him die again? Please…let me help him…I can't lose him again…I won't survive it…" The whispered words had poured out of him…words he had wanted to voice for so long but held inside…sometimes he wanted to just let it all end…to let the world end…even if both he and Dean died because of it…he knew where they would both be going anyway, he thought ruefully…at least they would be together…he didn't doubt Hell would keep them separated from each other, all the easier to break them down that way…and though he was terribly ashamed and saddened to admit it…knowing Dean was near would be as comforting as it would be appalling…**

**Sam shook his darkly swirling thoughts away…his brother was alive…and he was determined to keep him that way…he would have to deal with things one thing at a time…right now, he was able to produce a solution for Dean's physical wounds…those he could do something about, so, he would focus on the task at hand and work on the next problem when it came around…he swiped his hand over his face, erasing as much of the evidence of his tears as he could…he had to be strong, now more than ever, he needed to be like the Dean he remembered…the Dean that had raised him, who had always been more than a father to him than his own father had been. Though he loved him, John Winchester had pretty much left Dean to raise Sam himself…to Sam, Dean was his brother and his father, all rolled into one man…Sam steeled his will, determined to return the favor to his elder brother…**


	4. The Task At Hand

Chapter 4: The Task At Hand...

Sam stood and took a few towels from the rack by the door, laying them out on the bed…he dug around in his duffle, feeling for the, sadly enough, familiar shape of the medkit he kept on hand…he sighed as he opened it, setting it down on the dresser for a moment. He had acquired an increasingly wide variety of medical supplies, now including various pharmaceutical-grade drugs. He took a plastic-encased needle out of the box, setting it aside for a moment. He swiftly carded his hands into a pair of hospital-grade vinyl gloves. He peeled open the wrapper of the needle and withdrew the plastic tube before discarding the empty sheath…he removed the lid capping the thin, sharp sliver of metal before lifting a vial from the box. He pierced the rubber stopper at the top, withdrawing a moderate dose of the liquid within before placing the vial safely in its holder in the box, he withdrew a second vial, piercing its stopper and drawing out a good, heavy dose of the viscous liquid before returning that vial to the box as well. He gently depressed the plunger, slowly dispelling the remaining air in the tube, until the liquid traced along the needles' edge, beading up upon it. He set the needle down for a moment. He picked a cotton pad and dosed it liberally with iodine, then grabbed a length of rubber tube from the box… he picked up the needle and went back to Dean's side.

He set the needle carefully on the cabinet and set about wrapping the tube around his brother's arm, he tightened it, lifting the limb to flex it a bit…a vein appeared, protruding from beneath the skin…Sam wiped the iodine-coated pad over the area liberally before discarding it into the trash can…he lifted the needle, double checking it to make sure there was no air inside and then he swept the needle's tip deftly into Dean's arm, piercing the flesh and vein wall in a rapid pass…he depressed the plunger slowly and steadily, the distilling liquid flowing smoothly into his brother's system…his brother never stirred…once empty, he removed the needles' sharp tip with practiced ease and set it aside…he released the rubber tube and let the medicine work it's way into Dean's system…he stood and exited the bathroom to return to the motel room proper and set about prepping for what he had to do next…he lay out the supplies he needed on the small table, dragging it over to the bedside, he drug the chair over as well…once he was ready, he went to Dean, his once ragged breathing was now slow and steady as the sedative kicked in….

Sam slipped one of his lengthy arms under Dean's torso and the other he tucked into the hollow under his brother's knees…he was lighter than Sam remembered…Sam's mind shifted back momentarily to the hateful night that Dean had died…he had insisted on placing his brother's body in the coffin after Lilith had killed him…Sam snapped back to the present, the terrible memory lingering darkly in his mind despite his best efforts to quell it…Sam realized now just how much leaner Dean had become as his body tried to cope with the lack of sustenance from Dean's lack of eating, as well as his near complete loss of rest, not to mention the alcohol and the sheer physical demands they often were called upon to accomplish as they rid the world of evil…Sam was shocked Dean's body hadn't gone into shock, even if the blood loss wasn't huge, his heavily taxed system could easily have broken down with the addition of this name strain…

Sam lay Dean gently over the towels he had laid down over the firm plane of the mattress. He rolled the fabric of the boxers back on both sides and set to cleaning the wounds….the ones on the opposite side of the fresh ones were already knitting together, beginning to heal. He cleaned them, rubbing antibacterial gel into the wounded flesh before wiping his hands and placing bandages over the cuts. He moved back to the fresh wounds…at least eight of them required stitches…possibly a couple more, if they didn't show signs of healing and stop bleeding soon…

Sam withdrew a needle and surgical thread from the box and set about lacing the thread through the needle's eye...once he had accomplished that, he moved on to the task at hand. He gently gather the edges of the deepest wound between his fingers and pressed the needle through the flesh…he quickly fell into a rhythm as he wove the needle in and out of the flesh, tying the strands between each stitch to secure it…he worked through the next couple of hours, stitching the deep wounds with precision, despite his own achingly weary body's complaints…the first hint of dawn was slipping through the gaps in the window shades…the faintest glow of light at the edge of the night….Sam had ended up stitching a total of 11 cuts, then, he cleaned them, applied the gel and bandaged them…he sighed deeply as he rolled the edge of the boxers down…he stood, pushing the chair back away from him…he stretched deeply, attempting to release the pent-up tension from his body…it creaked and crackled a bit, but he felt better after the stretching….he move the table back to its place by the door, along with the chair. He gathered up the waste, tucking it into a plastic bag , including the needle and the now bloody vinyl gloves, that he would discard when the left next…he peeled back the covers of the other bed and bodily lifted his brother's unconscious form , swiveling he placed him down on the bed, pulling the covers over him…


	5. The Aftermath of the Revelation

**Chapter 5: The Aftermath of the Revelation…**

****

**Sam gathered the bloodied towels from the bed and set about cleaning up the pooled blood in the bathroom…he looked beneath the cabinet and was gladdened to see cleaning supplies tucked away in the very back, including bleach…he worked quickly, picking up the wet blood that remained then cleaned the dried blood up as well. He cleaned the blood-coated knife, placing it back into its sheath. He retrieved Dean's pants and jacket from the floor…he did a final double check of the bathroom…no trace of blood remained…Sam added the towel to the bag to be disposed of and set it by the door. He placed Dean's pants in the dirty clothes duffle and hung his coat over the back of the chair. **

**Sam let out a sigh…he looked around the motel room for a moment before his eyes fell upon his brother's unconscious form…at least the sedative and the pain medicine had depressed his system enough to let him avoid the nightmares…Sam was thankful for that…his brother's body needed to rest…Sam changed his clothes quickly, just incase there was any blood on them, then grabbed the keys and the bag and slipped out the door, locking it behind him…**

**He turned the engine of the Impala over and quietly backed her out of the parking spot…he made the quick jaunt to the all-night grocery store, stopping behind it to discard the bag of waste before parking in the parking lot in front of it and going inside…he grabbed enough supplies to comfortably maintain a few days in the hotel room…they were staying put… whether Dean liked it or not…He returned to the Impala, letting his mind drift a bit as he made his way back to the room…He pulled in and parked Dean's Baby, make sure to lock the doors. He opened the door and stepped into the room. He set the keys back on the table, locked the door and went about the business of putting the supplies away. Once he had accomplished that task, he settled himself on the opposite bed from Dean. He scooted himself back until he could set with his back to the headboard…he let himself drift off, but didn't let himself get too comfortable, just in case Dean woke up and needed him…**

**He worried about what he would say when Dean awoke tomorrow and saw that his secret was a secret no more…What he worried about the most was if Dean no longer had this crutch to rely on, would he fall even heavier into drinking? Would he slip into drugs? Sam could imagine a thousand and one ways Dean could fall into complete and utter darkness, but when he tried to come up with solutions that Dean could do to relieve the pain in a more positive way, Sam found himself at a loss…he feared for his brother…**

**Sam shook it off as best he could. There had to be a way….there had to….he had to believe that…he had to be strong. He had to be like Dean. He had promised once to save Dean, he had failed….but he would not fail this time…he would save him, but this time, he must be saved from himself… ****  
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End file.
